Fairly confident that our choice of preschool for our four-year-old would never appear on his résumé, we landed on the park district preschool. Our choice was bolstered by the teachers, Miss Jan and Miss Karen, who were friends from church. We knew he would be in good hands.

As Christmas came, Jan and Karen invited me to talk to the children about one of our Christmas traditions—one that was especially meaningful to our family. I got the hint. As park district employees, Miss Jan and Miss Karen had to exercise caution in what they said. As a parent, I could throw caution to the wind, and I did, packing up our Nativity set to show the children.

Our crèche was beautiful and to scale—five inches to be exact, with Mary, Joseph, the baby in the manger, a shepherd, two lambs and an angel hanging above the serene scene. At one point, we purchased a shepherdess carrying a lamb. Unfortunately, she was 7.5 inches tall and loomed large over the Holy Family, so she didn’t come to preschool with me that afternoon.

As I pulled out the Nativity set, piece by piece, I asked the children if they knew what each figure was. Fortunately, I had “plants” in the audience—my son and another four-year-old from College Church, who were eager to tell their clueless friends who was who.

Once the scene was set, I asked the children what they liked best about Christmas. Presents. Cookies. Candy Canes. Presents. Santa. Christmas trees. Presents. Even my plants got caught up in the frenzy. When things calmed down, I said, “Did you know that we don’t need any of that stuff to have Christmas?”

Silence as 15 or so sweet faces looked at the heretic in their midst. I quickly assured them that I love all that about Christmas, but Christmas would still come even if we didn’t have presents or Santa or Christmas trees. As I talked, I removed all the pieces except for Baby Jesus, and said, “Christmas comes because of Jesus, the newborn king. We only need him.”

Christmas comes with attachments for most of us. We ask, “How are your Christmas plans coming?” or “Are you done shopping for everyone on your list?” or “Are you traveling for Christmas?” Christmas cards are cheerful recaps of accomplishments. And I won’t even mention the Christmas posts.

We know we don’t need any of that stuff to celebrate Christmas, but it’s hard to let it go. It’s hard not to fill December with, well, with everything Christmas.

The shepherds in the fields that night didn't have any plans other than watching their sheep. Mary and Joseph's travel plans went awry, and they couldn't get a room. The only ones who brought presents were still traveling. Yet they had everything and then some because the Savior, the Christ, had been born.

Jesus, the one who emptied himself and was born in the likeness of men, filled the empty ones with grace and truth and living water. He didn’t come for those who were already filled, mostly with themselves. He came to the humble, the poor in spirit, the lost, the sick, and perhaps to an awkward shepherdess, who took a few steps closer to the baby as his mother and father made room for her and her lamb around that baby’s manger.